LVIII
A neat, snug study on a winter’s night,455
A book, friend, single lady, or a glass
Of claret, sandwich, and an appetite,
Are things which make an English evening pass—
Though certes by no means so grand a sight
As is a theatre lit up by gas—
I pass my evenings in long galleries solely,456457
And that’s the reason I’m so melancholy.
LIX
Alas! Man makes that great which makes him little—
I grant you in a church ’tis very well:
What speaks of Heaven should by no means be brittle,
But strong and lasting, till no tongue can tell
Their names who reared it; but huge houses fit ill,
And huge tombs, worse, Mankind—since Adam fell:
Methinks the story of the tower of Babel
Might teach them this much better than I’m able.
LX
Babel was Nimrod’s hunting-box, and then
A town of gardens, walls, and wealth amazing,
Where Nabuchadonosor,458 King of men,
Reigned, till one summer’s day he took to grazing,
And Daniel tamed the lions in their den,
The people’s awe and admiration raising;
’Twas famous, too, for Thisbe and for Pyramus,459
And the calumniated queen Semiramis—
LXI
That injured Queen, by chroniclers460 so coarse,
Has been accused (I doubt not by conspiracy)
Of an improper friendship for her horse
(Love, like Religion, sometimes runs to heresy):
This monstrous tale had probably its source
(For such exaggerations here and there I see)
In writing “Courser” by mistake for “Courier:”461
I wish the case could come before a jury here.462
LXII
But to resume—should there be (what may not
Be in these days?) some infidels, who don’t,
Because they can’t find out the very spot
Of that same Babel, or because they won’t
(Though Claudius Rich, Esquire, some bricks has got,
And written lately two memoirs upon ’t),463
Believe the Jews, those unbelievers, who
Must be believed, though they believe not you:
LXIII
Yet let them think that Horace has expressed
Shortly and sweetly the masonic folly
Of those, forgetting the great place of rest,
Who give themselves to Architecture wholly;
We know where things and men must end at best:
A moral (like all morals) melancholy,
And “Et sepulchri immemor struis domos”
Shows that we build when we should but entomb us.
LXIV
At last they reached a quarter most retired,
Where Echo woke as if from a long slumber;
Though full of all things which could be desired,
One wondered what to do with such a number
Of articles which nobody required;
Here Wealth had done its utmost to encumber
With furniture an exquisite apartment,
Which puzzled Nature much to know what Art meant.
LXV
It seemed, however, but to open on
A range or suite of further chambers, which
Might lead to Heaven knows where; but in this one
The moveables were prodigally rich:
Sofas ’twas half a sin to sit upon,
So costly were they; carpets every stitch
Of workmanship so rare, they made you wish
You could glide o’er them like a golden fish.
LXVI
The black, however, without hardly deigning
A glance at that which wrapped the slaves in wonder,
Trampled what they scarce trod for fear of staining,
As if the milky way their feet was under
With all its stars; and with a stretch attaining
A certain press or cupboard niched in yonder,
In that remote recess which you may see—
Or if you don’t the fault is not in me—
LXVII
I wish to be perspicuous—and the black,
I say, unlocking the recess, pulled forth
A quantity of clothes fit for the back
Of any Mussulman, whate’er his worth;
And of variety there was no lack—
And yet, though I have said there was no dearth—
He chose himself to point out what he thought
Most proper for the Christians he had bought.
LXVIII
The suit he thought most suitable to each
Was, for the elder and the stouter, first
A Candiote cloak, which to the knee might reach,
And trousers not so tight that they would burst,
But such as fit an Asiatic breech;
A shawl, whose folds in Cashmire had been nursed,
Slippers of saffron, dagger rich and handy;
In short, all things which form a Turkish Dandy.
LXIX
While he was dressing, Baba, their black friend,
Hinted the vast advantages which they
Might probably attain both in the end,
If they would but pursue the proper way
Which Fortune plainly seemed to recommend;
And then he added, that he needs must say,
“ ’T would greatly tend to better their condition,
If they would condescend to circumcision.
LXX
“For his own part, he really should rejoice
To see them true believers, but no less
Would leave his proposition to their choice.”
The other, thanking him for this excess
Of goodness, in thus leaving them a voice
In such a trifle, scarcely could express
“Sufficiently” (he said) “his approbation
Of all the customs of this polished nation.
LXXI
“For his own share—he saw but small objection
To so respectable an ancient rite;
And, after swallowing down a slight refection,
For which he owned a present appetite,
He doubted not a few hours of reflection
Would reconcile him to the business quite.”
“Will it?” said Juan, sharply: “Strike me dead,
But they as soon shall circumcise my head!464
LXXII
“Cut off a thousand heads, before—”—“Now, pray,”
Replied the other, “do not interrupt:
You put me out in what I had to say.
Sir!—as I said, as soon as I have supped,
I shall perpend if your proposal may
Be such as I can properly accept;
Provided always your great goodness still
Remits the matter to our own free-will.”
LXXIII
Baba eyed Juan, and said, “Be so good
As dress yourself—” and pointed out a suit
In which a Princess with great pleasure would
Array her limbs; but Juan standing mute,
As not being in a masquerading mood,
Gave it a slight kick with his Christian foot;
And when the old negro told him to “Get ready,”
Replied, “Old gentleman, I’m not a lady.”
LXXIV
“What you may be, I neither know nor care,”
